


The Inquisition of the Seas

by Fenhediis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cruise Ship, Angry Little Lavellan, Crack, Cruise Ships, Cultural Differences, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hate Sex, Hate at First Sight, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, Sexual Tension, Smut, absolute nonsense, culture clash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenhediis/pseuds/Fenhediis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being on board the ship the Inquisition of the Seas means the research trip of a lifetime for Rhiannon Lavellan. However, a mix-up results in having to share close quarters with possibly the most insufferable, bigoted elf she has ever met. As the Inquisition sets sail, it seems that more than just cultures and personalities are destined to clash. Only one thing is certain. It's going to be a long, hot voyage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inquisition of the Seas

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolute nonsense. Shameless nonsense. Cruise Ship AU. Not sure where I'm going with this, much like the ship. When reading this allow any established geography of Thedas to go to complete and utter hell. Abandon all reason, and jump aboard. If you like it, let me know - I'll see where and if this continues. Rhiannon is definitely a firebrand, and I hope to play on the massive personality and cultural differences that unfold. 
> 
> Enjoy the ride, mateys. ;)
> 
> P.S. Fun drinking game for the duration of this fic: take a shot every time Inquisition Jim sweats.

‘No.’

Rhiannon closed her eyes, half wanting to throw herself overboard and solve the unbelievable situation that was unfolding before her.

‘I am so sorry, Sir, truly. Please accept _our most sincere apologies._ Unfortunately, our cabins are fully booked, and due to this mistake, this cabin is the only one left. We are happy to issue a full refund, or offer you complimentary tickets for our next scheduled voyage.’

This was not happening. In no version of her reality was this _actually_ happening.

She had booked these tickets months ago. Her clan had banded together, scraping what little they had together, to insist she go and experience the wider world, to complete her studies in the places she would visit, to learn more of their people’s history. Excitement was a paltry word to describe what she felt. But now, here she was, in the entrance of the ship, in… _this._

She had been stood there for the best part of half an hour, held verbal hostage by the disgruntled man beside her.

‘Your next voyage is three months from now. My interest at present, however, remains with exactly how you managed to assign two complete strangers to the same cabin. Currently, I can only presume the answer lies with your startling incompetence.’

The attendant bowed hastily, mumbling a torrent of apologies. Bowing and scraping and bobbing up and down like some sort of lyrium addled creature, despite the stranger’s pleas that he stop doing so. The bowing and scraping was clearly making him uncomfortable. Rhiannon found her thoughts more occupied by the thinking that that if he bowed and bent any more, he was going to end up snapping in half. She folded her arms and cocked her head, watching the display unfold before her.

She could swear the human frame was not meant to bend that way.

Her eyes finally noticed the large red name badge on his lapel in all the commotion. It bore an eye and sword, the logo of the ship, of the Inquisition.

 

Hello! My name is  
**JIM**

 

His name was handwritten in a scrawl that was about as nervous as he was.

She fanned herself with the brochures and leaflets she had in her hand, all hastily collected in excitement while the promise of boarding this ship had been a reality and not complete unfolding chaos. While the debate before her raged on, she whipped out her phone with her free hand, typing an instant message as furiously to her cousin back at Clan Lavellan as using only one thumb would allow.

 

                                                                                you should see this lethallan

                                                                                this guy is completely dragging the attendant

                                                                                we’re booked in the same room

                                                                                i can’t express how much i cba with this rn

                                                                                                                                                [Sent 09:00]  
                                                                                                                                                [Delivered 09:00]

‘I’m happy to sleep with crew, in a bath tub, whatever. I just _really_ need to be on this voyage it’s for research and I’ve been really looking forward to -’ She piped up, before being cut off.

‘I regret to say that I share this sentiment, and also the urgency.’

Rhiannon’s eyes narrowed at the sudden rival before her. Oh no he did _not._ Not on her watch. It would be a cold day in the Beyond before she let this opportunity slip by. They would literally have to prise her from the railings of this cursed ship if they wanted her to leave.

They locked bitter, warring gazes.

This tall, bald asshole was not going to be standing in her way. She did not know what elves he was familiar with, but if he thought she was some sort of meek, unobtrusive doormat he was in for a rough ride. And, if she was being brutally honest, they should be giving this room on superior aesthetic _alone._ Whatever that tragic get up he had on was about, it was certainly beyond her.

Her train of thought was interrupted as the debate raged on anew.

‘Again, Sir, my deepest apologies, but a full refund-’

‘No. Do not ask me again.’

Rhiannon pushed her tongue into her cheek, raising her eyebrows at his response as she silently began pulling out her phone again in disbelief.

 

                                                                                _this BITCH_

_he is salty af_

_he is straight up trying to steal my room_

_lmao he trying to fuck with a dalish I can’t_

_[Sent 09:03]  
                                                                                                                                                [Delivered 09:03]_

 

The attendant was visibly sweating now, still bobbing up and down. At this point, she was beginning to suspect it was more a nervous tic than actual politeness at this stage. Her heart went out to him. You wouldn’t be able to pay her to deal with people like _him_ on a daily basis.

‘I would speak with your superior.’ The stranger said calmly, an edge of irritation to his voice.

‘For the love of the Creators, _really?_ ’ She shot back.

She received no reply save his stony, unimpressed gaze.

 

                                                                                HE’S GETTING THE MANAGER lmAo

                                                                                this is WILD

                                                                                                                                                _[Sent 09:04]  
                                                                                                                                                [Delivered 09:04]_

 

She glanced up from the screen to look across again. He stood, hip cocked, one arm folded across his chest. Shaking her head she returned to hastily messaging her, annoyingly absent, relation.

 

                                                                                where the fuck does he think he going tho

                                                                                lmao the only direction he’s going is off this boat

                                                                                like ill wave at him as this ship leaves harbour?

                                                                                dareth shiral asshole

                                                                                                                                                _[Sent 09:04]  
                                                                                                                                                [Delivered 09:04]_

 

‘Look, is this necessary? I mean this poor guy - _Jim_ , looks run ragged. And according to this ticket, 9:41 is my cabin. It’s in my name.’

‘I  believe it is in both our names, and I believe that much has already been made apparent. But, in case it needs reiteration, I also have a ticket to wave around in calm liberty.’

Rhiannon clenched her jaw, waving her hand in acceptance. Jim bobbed up and down once more as he switched between galloping down the hallway at full pelt and attempting to walk in some semblance of control.

Silence stretched on for what seemed like hours, shifting and abjectly not looking at one another.

Out of anger and her eternal damned curiosity, she found her eyes drifting to examine the prickly stranger besides her, wondering if she could discern something more about him. He was taller than she had ever seen for an elf, no vallaslin, _clearly_ not Dalish, with a strong jaw, mostly spent clenched if the past half an hour was anything to go by. From what she could guess his face also spent most of its life in a furrowed contemplation -it was certainly the disgruntled expression he wore now. Cocking her head, she found herself deploring the grey, long jumper that he had quite evidently thrown on, despite the blazing heat. What a tragedy. Her eyes drifted down, further than she was expecting her anger to allow.

Her eyebrows shot up sharply, near spluttering and giving herself away, as she finally realised what exactly she was seeing.

Perhaps the skinniest pair of jeans she had ever seen in her life greeted her, encasing all of _that_ in all of ...not very much at all. She could only guess he had used a _vacuum_ to get into those things. Eyes glued to places there really shouldn’t have been, her face a picture of confusion and vaguely interested horror, she noticed the interruption from the voice above her just a little too late.

‘You are Dalish.’

Rhiannon jumped, her eyes flickering between his face, the ceiling and where they shouldn’t really have been in the first place. She crossed her arms, furrowing her eyebrows and pretending to study the ceiling with great, absorbing interest.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ She lied, convincing absolutely no one.

‘You are Dalish, are you not?’ He repeated again.

This time, Rhiannon heard him.

She looked at him like he had just declared water is wet, her gaze snapping up in embarrassment and in defence. You would literally have to be blind to miss her vallaslin that crept across her face, or wrapped around her shoulder and arms, telling the world to which clan she belonged. The beads and bits of broken glass that were woven into Dalish bracelets, the riot coloured scarves that were woven through her curly nest of hair or the flowers that joined them. Take your pick, but it was painfully obvious. 

It was not this that bothered her, however. It was the tone of his voice made her blood rise. His words were an accusation, not a question. The venom that usually followed was a near automatic response, trained through years of similar disdain and readiness to defend herself.

‘Yes, I am Dalish.’ She replied. ‘Clan Lavellan. Is that a _problem, lethallin_?’

Her retort held far more bite than she had intended, and the bite had certainly found its mark.

He snorted, eyebrows raised in disdain.

‘ _Clan_? You use the term liberally. Surely, that is some mangled Dalish translation. Perhaps _gang_ is the term you seek.’

Rage spiked through her blood, the hairs raising at the back of her neck.

She _hated_ that word.

‘As if you would know anything of us, you pretentious thin-blooded-’

‘Ah, yes. Forgive my manners, I can only assume the Dalish are the sole experts on Elven and Elvish culture by the mere fact of belonging to it. How utterly expected.’

He straightened himself, looking her up at down with arms clasped behind his back. His eyes lingered over her vallaslin in particular before turning his gaze back down the corridor in a bored anticipation.

‘ _Excuse me?_ I’m going to knock your ass back to the Creators, so help me-’ She hissed, stalking over to him to square up.

She barely reached his shoulders, but she bristled beneath him, inches between them as she glared from below, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. Her stared back at her in vague interest. Neither of them moved.

Before she had the chance to pummel the superiority from his face, Jim was sprint-walking down the hallway again, this time with a woman dressed in a smart yellow suit and impossibly frilly blouse walking quickly behind him.

‘ _Andaran Atishan_.’ She greeted, looking up from her clipboard.

An awkward silence hung heavy in the air as Jim, still profusely sweating, and his superior paused as they watched the pint-sized figure of Rhiannon prickle, scowling in front of the uninterested elf that towered above her.

From the heavy way in which she rolled her words, her dark complexion, strong nose and loud sense of style, Rhiannon guessed she was from Antiva.

‘You speak Elvish!’ She cried with a surprised grin, easing off the tense edge.

Rhiannon stepped away from the tall elf, turning instead to face the friendly attendant.

‘You have just heard the entirety of it, I am afraid. Let me offer my most sincere apologies this is...unprecedented. We will try our _utmost_ to resolve this cordially. I am told that a refund is not an option for you both?’

‘I-’ Rhiannon began.

‘I am afraid not.’ The stranger next to her replied, cutting her off.

She narrowed her eyes, tongue in cheek and eyebrows raised as she waited. Her nails dug into the flesh of her folded arms as she mustered every scrap of strength she had to hold her tongue. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was a representative of her people here, as low as opinion of them seemed to sink. She had already come dangerously close to knocking someone out and she had been here all of half an hour. Even still, the insufferable elf somehow seemed to already know where all of her buttons were.

And he was apparently intent on pushing every one of them.

‘It appears that both of us are on limited time and are bound to the destination. As I recall I also offered my services as a lecturer aboard the ship for the duration of the journey. We discussed this some time ago, if I am not mistaken.’

‘Yes, _of course_. How absent minded of me! Unfortunately, this ship truly _is_ at capacity. The Inquisition has proved surprisingly popular! The pilgrimage route to Haven, in particular at this time of year we believe has resulted in a surprising number of passengers.’

She paused, scribbling furiously on her clipboard.

‘However, let me be the first to offer you passage completely at our discretion, a total refund and dinner with the Captain. If you wish to stay, that is.’

 ‘That is the goal.’ 

Josephine cleared her throat a little, shuffling her papers nervously.

 ‘This is...unorthodox, but, we would be remiss in our duties as hosts to let our customers sleep in the crew hold. We would be happy to try and board you both...’

 Rhiannon and her disgruntled companion both let out small sighs of relief.

 ‘...In the same cabin.’ She continued quickly.

 ‘ _What?_ ’ They whispered in horrified unison.

Josephine’s eyes flickered nervously between them.

 ‘We can assure that every other comfort will be attended to! We know it is...not usually done, however, it _would_ provide a solution! Perhaps, the only solution...’ She faded off with a nervous, thick laugh.

Rhiannon looked at the stranger. The stranger looked back at her. Both folded their arms.

If anyone thought she was going to be sharing a room with this bald bigot they had another thing coming. Judging by the dead silence of her potential room mate, he also felt the same.

 She felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Her cousin, most likely, finally deciding to reply.

A pang of guilt stung in her stomach, remembering how hard they had worked for her to be here and how excited they were to see her set off, full of hope that her research and work might finally do their people some real good. This was not the solution she wanted but this ship was leaving in two hours and she really couldn’t let it leave without her. Even if it meant sharing it. The best part of two months on a ship, locked in a room with quite possibly the most irritating, _rude_ , _offensive_ , narrow-minded person she had ever met. And she had barely met him.

How hard could it be?

Jim, who was still sweating for Thedas, clasped his hands together. His eyes darted back and forth between the unlikely pair. Unclasping his shaking hands, he adjusted his name badge.

‘Alright, you got me. Throw in free bar and I’m in.’ She finally agreed.

With a scowl at the man beside her, she realised she would probably be frequenting it. 

'Yes, of course!’ Josephine smiled, waving her pen in the air, Rhiannon’s agreement a small victory. All eyes now turned to the man beside her whose eyebrows were furrowed slightly mid-decision.

With a heavy sigh, and a glance over his shoulder at the small Dalish woman beside him, the tall elf finally nodded.

‘I suppose we are in agreement.’

‘Wonderful! Please, follow me.’ Josephine beamed.

Rhiannon stalked next to the man, her short legs working double time to try and keep up with his easy, lengthy strides. Even his walk was irritating. He really was impossibly tall for an elf. His hips also had this strange way of swaying that she couldn’t quite look away from.

‘Mythal’s _Mercy_ , what is wrong with you?’ She chided herself mentally.

She shook her head and sped up, much to the displeasure of her shins.

With her eyes now firmly glued _away_ from the uncomfortable distraction before her, she began to truly appreciate exactly where she was. From endless mirrors adorning the walls, to the twisting, crystal lamps and railings that lit the way, she had never been anywhere like _this._

After what seemed like hours and endless twists, turns and corners later, they finally came to a stop.

‘Cabin 9:41,’ Josephine announced, sliding in the card and pushing open the door.

What greeted them was a small but welcoming room. It was cosy, bright, but tight. That they would be living in close quarters for the next two months was an understatement. Living on top of each other, was perhaps a better fit. White net curtains blew gently in the breeze, the outline of a balcony and the sea beyond visible through them.

And, in the middle of it all, stood a bed.

 _One_ bed.

The silence stretched on.

‘There is...one bed.’ Rhiannon said slowly, not quite believing the words coming out of her mouth.

It was a double bed, sure enough, but somehow that almost made it worse. The stranger prickled next to her.

‘Ah... _yes._ ’ Josephine laughed nervously, turning to furrow her eyebrows darkly at Jim.

Jim, by this point, was now clinging to the wall, ashen and still sweating. He honestly looked as if he were about to faint completely, dabbing his brow with a cloth he had procured from somewhere within his uniform. 

‘That must have been another oversight,’ He whispered hoarsely. ‘Shall I fetch the Commander?’

‘There is no need. I am sure we will come to an arrangement.’ The man beside her interjected quickly. ‘This will suffice.’

If looks could kill, the look Rhiannon shot him after that statement would have left little to identify him by. But one glance at Josephine and Jim and she decided to get this whole affair over with as quickly as possible.

‘I’m sure it’ll be just fine. Thank you for sorting this all out.’ She added quickly.

‘The pleasure is ours, and our apologies are yours.’ Josephine breathed in relief. ‘If there is _anything_ you require or wish to know, we are completely at your service.’

Jim and Josephine soon disappeared into the bowels of the ship, leaving Rhiannon and her, now cabin-mate, standing in front of the door, staring into the room in disbelieving silence.

‘You first.’ she said, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

She swept her arm forward in mock chivalry.

‘Ma nuvenin.’ Came the reply, in elvish, catching her off guard, before stalking into the room as if he owned it.

She knew he was an elf, but she had assumed his lack of vallaslin would mean him a city elf, or perhaps something else. But his pronunciation was perfect. And yet he had still taken a large verbal dump over the Dalish and her language not ten minutes before. Was he some sort of scholar? Rejected by a clan?

Rhiannon followed behind, her questions soon forgotten as she took in the room around her.

Hands on hips, she whistled. It was small but she had never been anywhere like this, or even anywhere _close_ to this. To be honest, she’d never known luxury at all. Fresh white walls caught the light of the sun outside which in turn glinted off the glass lamps on the walls, and the crystal decanter of water on the table. A large velvet armchair was perched, content, in the furthest corner.

Kicking off her shoes, she curled her toes into the soft, white rug beneath her feet. The room was bright and airy despite being so small, and that was to say nothing of the balcony outside the room, a view of port still visible outside. Paintings of the various destinations they would be visiting hung on the walls at random intervals. 

She ran her hands along the walls in wonder, until her hands came into contact with a handle she had completely missed. Her fingers curled around it in excitement, pulling it open to poke her head inside.

‘Falon’Din’s _nuts_ this is huge!’ She cried, running inside.

It was a bathroom, and one that almost rivalled the small cabin for size. Green and gold mosaic lined the walls, glittering in the low ambient light inside. The bath alone was at least triple the size of her, small as she was. Walking inside she leaned over it, running her hands across the metal openings in its walls. She didn’t know what they did, but she was going to have fun finding out. The marble was cool against the soles of her feet, and she couldn’t stop herself from wriggling her toes against it. She had seen marble, but she had never walked on it. A wild grin spread across her face. Perhaps this truly wouldn’t be so bad.

She walked out again, stopping as she caught eyes with her cabin-mate. Realisation slowly sunk in, deflating her excitement slightly as they stared at each other in what was becoming an increasing pattern of awkward silence.

‘So...how are we going to work this out?’ She began, rubbing her neck and wincing.

More silence.

She clicked her tongue, waiting for him to speak, irritation bubbling through her blood.

‘As for the bed, rotation.’ He replied simply. ‘If that is agreeable to you.’

She nodded quickly. It was better than nothing, she supposed. And if her plans for living it up on this ship went accordingly, she would probably be too drunk to care where she slept. If she made it back to her room in one piece. Judging by how it was shaping up so far, she would be getting drunk with _frequency_.

‘And, everything else?’ She questioned.

‘I would suggest we create a boundary. Split the room. Unless you would prefer one of us to inhabit the bathroom.’

Rhiannon mustered the last of her will to not visibly roll her eyes into the back of her skull.

‘I’ll take right, you take left?’ She suggested instead, hoping that he would agree so that she could spend her time on the balcony.

He turned to her, with a nod.

‘My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I suppose there must be if we are living in close quarters for the next month.’

‘Rhiannon Lavellan.’ She replied curtly, as amicably as her mood would let her.

Solas soon turned to begin establishing himself across the left side of the room, as she perched on the edge of the window seat, taking out her phone to read the incredulous replies from her cousin, responding as she went.

 

                                                                                join the inquisition they said.

                                                                                it’ll be fun they said

_[Sent 09:27]  
                                                                                                                [Delivered 09:27]_

_[Seen: 09:28]_

 

Stealing a glance at Solas, who had already begun to spread papers and artefacts over the desk, hands on hips and looking down in some sort of superior intellectual contemplation, she decided to begin typing another message.

                                                                               

                                                                                _they lied._


End file.
